


Invulnerable

by closetcellist



Category: Battle for London in the Air (Roleplay)
Genre: Baby's first murder, Gen, Immortal Illuminati AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetcellist/pseuds/closetcellist
Summary: Stationed in Beijing in 1900 in the midst of a rebellion, Dr Jhandir believes he knows what to expect. But even after 40 years, he has something new to learn.
Kudos: 4





	Invulnerable

Dr Jhandir knew how these things went. The timeline of them was changeable of course—some were painfully drawn out, spanning years as everyone simply ground each other down; others were short, sharp things, episodes that history books would describe as lasting days or weeks, never mind that there was always the weight of years of pain behind them. Revolutions and rebellions, whatever their apparent length, did have a pattern, and it was clear that the _Yìhéquán_ and their allies were reaching a tipping point, especially if what he had heard over the last few weeks was accurate and they truly had the ear of the Empress Dowager.

He should have been inserted earlier, that was clear enough, but with so many powers digging their fingers into China these days the situation had been murky. It was nothing short of a miracle he had been able to make contacts within the  _ Yìhéquán _ at all—their dire need for medical care in their communities was, he suspected, the only reason they put up with him, though a few of the families in the area had warmed somewhat to him. “Foreigners” was simply too broad a group and without a clearer target, he was certain their movement would ultimately fail. He’d said as much to both his friendlier contacts in the  _ Yìhéquán _ and his own association but the former were too invested in the righteousness of their cause and the latter thought that whatever was coming, it was still worth his continued presence.

All that in mind, he had expected a rather quiet day—the  _ Yìhéquán _ trusted him enough by this point to alert him when he might expect an influx of patients in the area, if not enough to tell him exactly what they were planning to do. After spending the morning in his ‘office,’ such as it was (how dearly he missed having access to a proper clinic and surgery), doing nothing more than tending to a young child with a lingering cough, he had begun working on his ever growing list of things he wanted to import and taking notes for a possible article on the differences between Chinese and Western medical practices at the turn of the century.

He hadn’t expected his door to open and reveal any of the  _ Yìhéquán _ , much less  _ Zǐsōng _ , one of the members of the sect that made his distaste for the foreign doctor very clear. That distaste wasn’t present now, however, which only intensified Dr Jhandir’s discomfiture.

“ _ Zǐsōng _ ,” Dr Jhandir said, surprise obvious in his voice and expression. “I had not heard to expect anyone today. Are you ill?”

“I am blessed with good health,”  _ Zǐsōng _ said. “And today is no different. I take it you have not heard the news? It does travel so slowly sometimes, but the right people always hear it eventually.”

Dr Jhandir rose with a frown, shaking his head. “I have heard nothing of import in days. To what news do you refer?”

“Our most wise empress dowager has made a decree,”  _ Zǐsōng _ said, smiling now, thin and deadly. “She has finally declared war on the foreigners who have invaded our cities and polluted us for too long. The empress herself stands by us, and we are now free by her own words to exterminate the foreigners on our soil.”   
  
Ice ran down Dr Jhandir’s spine as he glanced quickly around for a route of escape.  _ Zǐsōng _ stood between him and the door, and even the room he used as his office was cramped and small, no space to dodge and run. There was a small window in his personal quarters, looking out on the other side of the building, but while he had previously considered it a possible escape route, it would not be a quick thing and the lock on the door between them was flimsy. “I am on your side,” he said faintly. “There is no need for violence against me.”

“You appear from nowhere, know no one, yet somehow found our best men and you speak our language with the taint of an Englishman,”  _ Zǐsōng  _ said. “I have said more than once we could not trust you, and now is the time for us to shed all our weaknesses. If you truly stood with us, you would not be here at all.”

With that, _Zǐsōng_ darted forward, and Dr Jhandir had barely stumbled back a step when the man was on him. A fist to his sternum doubled him over, the air leaving his body in a rush, pain taking its place instead. He let himself fall, rolling and crawling under his desk for a moment’s reprieve. His pistol was in the other room, and his surgical tools in their cases out of easy reach. His mind flashed to what was on his desk as _Zǐsōng_ grabbed his ankle to pull him from his temporary refuge and he kicked madly at the man, trying to twist free. In return he received laughter and a kick to the face. _Zǐsōng_ grabbed the front of his _chang_ _pao_ in two fists to drag him upright, and as soon as Dr Jhandir could reach it, he flailed backward desperately at his desktop.

There. His hand found what it sought, fingers closing around the handle and he moved without further thought, driving the blade of his letter opener into the side of _Zǐsōng_ ’s throat. He pulled it free in as swift a motion and the hot spray of arterial blood hit them both. The letter opener fell to the floor with a clatter several seconds before _Zǐsōng_ did, his eyes open in shock as his hands slipped nerveless from the now wet red front of the doctor’s _chang_ _pao_.

Dr Jhandir’s hands shook—he was rightfully proud of his steady hands through the most stressful surgeries but now they shook, adrenaline coursing through him, slamming his heart against is rib cage hard enough that if he’d looked down he’d have seen his blood-soaked  _ chang pao _ vibrating over his chest.

He’d never felt so... _ alive _ .

The world seemed to slow, the golden light from the afternoon streaming through the window to frame the now still body on the floor, illuminating the corpse like a manuscript written in blood. The quiet noises of the street barely filtered through his mind as he looked down at his hands. They’d had blood on them before, many times over the course of years, but always in the attempt to save a life, improve it. This blood seemed redder somehow. Stronger and more vibrant.

Without conscious thought, he lifted his hand to his mouth and delicately licked the pad of his finger clear. The body of  _ Zǐsōng  _ was the only witness to his quiet gasp as the metallic spike hit his taste buds like the finest of wines.

The world stayed slow, quiet, delightfully serene as he swayed back into movement, leaving the body where it was and slipping through to the room that served as his living quarters, stripping out of his ruined  _ chang pao, _ washing his hands and face carefully and methodically, changing into something clean and unstained, and packing his most valuable and necessary possessions. His chest and face throbbed where he had been hit, but he registered it only distantly, as he soaked in the afterglow of adrenaline and blood.

He’d intended to go straight to the embassy next and find his contact there, though if what  _ Zǐsōng _ had said really was true, and the Empress Dowager had declared actual war against Britain and Japan, a quick and easy extraction might be difficult to manage. He had just stepped out of the backroom when the door to his office opened.

Oscar stood in the doorway, back lit by the afternoon sun, and the two men stared for a moment at each other across the room,  _ Zǐsōng _ ’s body in between them. After an infinitely long heartbeat, Oscar stepped inside and closed the door firmly. “This was the soonest I could get out to you,” he said, clearing his throat. “I take it you’re more than aware of the recent pronouncement. It’s clearly too dangerous to have you stay. I have tickets for the next ship out of the country. It will be packed with foreign nationals, and likely at least half of the embassy staff. You won’t be out of place.”

“What about…” Dr Jhandir trailed off, glancing at the body and the blood on the floor.

Oscar shook his head. “We leave it. There will be enough violence throughout the city soon enough. The situation explains itself. And I doubt we have time enough on our side to clean it up.”

“Yes, of course,” Dr Jhandir said, dragging his eyes away from the body. “Then we have no reason to waste the time we do have. I have everything I need.”   
  
Oscar nodded, stepping aside and opening the door wide enough for the two of them to slip out and they headed for the street, where the rickshaw Oscar had taken was still waiting. He said a few words to the runner who nodded, not looking the least bit curious, though if he too had heard the pronouncement it would be no surprise the two of them were heading for a way out.

The two men sat in silence for a few minutes, but Oscar clearly found it unbearable. Dr Jhandir couldn’t quite blame him—he avoided rickshaws as often as feasible, the tangible discomfort of riding in a carriage pulled by a man rather than a horse often too much to handle. “Are you all right?” Oscar asked, eventually. “Were you injured?”

Dr Jhandir was barely listening. “They thought their practices made them invulnerable,” he murmured, staring at his hands distractedly. There was a bit of dried blood that he’d apparently missed, clinging to the cuticle of his thumbnail, and he picked at it absently. “It wasn’t true of course. But they believed it so fervently.”

Oscar shook his head. “No one is invulnerable,” he said, glancing sideways at Dr Jhandir. “And we do what we must. You’ll be given time to recover, if you need it.”

Dr Jhandir hummed, a small noncommittal noise. His hands were now clean but he couldn’t seem to stop looking at them. He knew now exactly what he needed, the truth of it sitting heavy and warm in the front of his mind. It wouldn’t be gained by hiding away in a safe house.

He needed to taste that blood again.


End file.
